Shopping With Jesus

Shopping With Jesus

12.12.05 (9:29 pm)   [edit]
Late night shopping. Kroger as usual. Not a fucked-up lesbo daddy's girl in sight.

But hmmm, what's THIS?

Blonde curly hair, looks about my age. Very curvy. A bit overweight, but not in any unpleasant way at all. Very nice round ass. And...oh, she''s turning around. Damn, what a rack.

I'm walking past the coffee, she's looking at the Folgers.

I suddenly remember that I look like shit. I've decided to do something I've never done - grow a beard. I think it should be pretty cool, but right now I just look like some asshole who hasn't shaved in four or five days. I look like I just crawled out of the alley after a three-day weekend up Jack Daniel's asshole.

She just said hi to me.

"Uh, hi." I slow down, but still walking past her.

"Do you drink coffee?"

She's asking me a question. I'm looking at her tits. She doesn't seem to mind, or maybe she doesn't notice. Fuck, those things could hold enough milk to feed Cambodia for a month or three.

"Yeah. Not a lot. Sometimes." Had some this morning at work. I like the coffee machine there, because it's lying to you. You find that out quick. I get the espresso, becuase it's not really espresso. It's fucking coffee. But the shit that says "coffee" is actually coffee-flavored bat piss. It's good to know these things early, So I push the "espresso" button with sugar and have a decent (not great) little paper cup of coffee a couple times a week at work. And I drink some here at home sometimes. Got some Seattle's Best I quite like. Had some at Steak & Shake when I saw Amanda today. (Barely talked to her, she was on breka when I got there and I had a different waitress.)

"I never drink coffee, but I'm picking up some for my mother and I only know that she drinks Folgers. I'm not sure which one to get."

"I really don't know, but I assume that the Columbian would be a safe bet."
What do I know? There's people paying four bucks for hot sewage at Starbuck's right now. And people across the street at ANOTHER Starbucks. What do I know what coffee people like? But she's cute, she has tits that could envelope my entire skull, and she seems very friendly and nice. Very pretty smile. Big soft brown eyes. I'm thinking as much about how truly pleasant she seems as about how much I'd like to boink her.

She puts a can in her cart. "Thank you."

"No problem." Before I know it, my hand goes out. "I'm Doug."

"I'm Teresa."

Great, the last girl I wanted to fuck named Teresa was back in college, and she told me as we drove home from our first not-really-a-date that she wanted to be a nun. I wondered if she made this decision before or after meeting me. She told me on one of the half-dozen or so times we drove around together (it was never anything official or even anything at all, dammit) that she really liked me. But I couldn't lay a finger on her. I tried to hold her hand once - as far as I ever went - and she seemed both amused and terrified. I went to her house in Greentown once. I didn't see her for five months, and went back. Her mom said she'd gotten married. From a nun to married just like that, no Dougie-involvement at all. I felt so fuckin' loved.

Then there was the Teresa before her. The girl I lost my mind over for three years in high school and college. Nice Christian girl. Always made me feel like utter shit because I obviously didn't have Jesus-based goals for us. I wanted to fuck her and fucking is a sin, right? "I think you want sex more than you want anything else with me."

Well of course. I'm 16 years old. My hormones are doing crazed square-dances in my testicles. When you are in high school that's the only thing you CAN think about. Fuck, i've been out of high school for 17 years and it's still 90% of what goes on in my fucking head. Back then there simply was no choice. There barely is now. But you can't tell these things to some women. Because women are pure. And sweet. And innocent. And completely full of shit when they get to use some twisted Jeezo-logic on your ass.

Back to the present. This Teresa is shaking my hand. And...damn, what a nice disarming smile. I've known her 20 seconds and I feel like she's invited me into her home already.

I almost said something amazingly stupid like "Come here often?" but she's asking me if I live nearby. I tell her I'm half a mile away. She's a little farther down the road east from me. Near the Baptist church.

She said that a little too...oh no...not again...not when I'm wanting to wear those tits on my head like the world's best pair of earmuffs. Huhuhuh, "muff", huhuhuh...

"I go there every week."

Shit. I'm not getting laid tonight. That's for sure now.

Not two minutes into our conversation and we've gone from coffee to Jesus. She's really very, very nice, but she's now asking me where I go to church. I tell her I don't. She looks very disappointed. but still super-pleasant.

She's still standing there looking at me with that smile. It only dropped for a second.

"Well, nice to meet you Teresa. Have a good night. Hope your mom enjoys the coffee."

"You're very nice. Would you like to come to church with me sometime?"

And what? Sit there and...Jesus H. Christ in a baking dish. I'm not being very nice. Wait a minute, did she just ask me out? What the fuck? Out to...to...church. My head is starting to spin. A woman just showed actual interest in me. But I think she's interested in something very, very different.

"Like I said, I don't go. I used to. No offense, you're very nice and thank you for the offer, but I doubt you'd really be interested in hanging out with me."

"Why not?" Dammit, quit smiling like that. I feel like an asshole and I haven't DONE anything yet.

If I'd been five seconds quicker, I would have said "Because my Lord Satan is expecting me down at the titty bar in half an hour, and I've got some puppies to drain the blood from for tomorrow's Baphomet Barbecue out in the woods next to the graven image of Anton LeVay."

I waan't that quick.

"I'm not a Christian. And not interested. Like I said, no offense intended. You're very nice, Teresa."

The last sentence was supposed to come out more friendly than it did. I think it actually came out a mixture of sarcasm and "you're so nice I'd like to fuck you in the ass to old Black Sabbath albums" creepy. Shit. Now I AM an asshole and I was trying to be nice.

She seemed oblivious. She reached into her purse (i noticed the very stiff, zombie-like way she did it and suddenly realized that her lovely smile was practically painted on. Her expression had only slightly changed the whole time) and pulled out soemthing to hand to me. Oh shit, I AM in Indiana. A woman I've known for three minutes in a grocery store is handing me a Jeezo-tract.

"Thanks. But I'm not interested. Have a good night." THAT came out positively shitty. I walked off and didn't look back. Wanted to look back. Didn't.

Fucking hell.

Before I got out the door I had wood thinking some really dirty sinful thoughts. Well, not really. *I* don't think it's a sin to bang a girl with giant funbags until they're bouncing so hard they hit her in the face, but I'm not into Jesus like she is.

Yep, I'm the hood ornament.

I told Bob today that I'm growing a beard. He said, "That should help you find women. They won't have to see what's underneath."

"You're an evil genius, Bob."

The crappy radio station played a Mariah Carey song. I think I got my male-pig quote fo the week in - "If you're going to spend that much time and effort trying to do gymnastics with your throat, I've got a new job for you, bitch."

Damn, that Teresa chick had some big fuckin' tits. Well, time to spank the Franklin, boys and girls. Have a good night.

Love,.
Dougie